Dear Jason
by Inscriber
Summary: Dick writes a letter to Jason, telling him all the things he can't say to him anymore. Because somethings can't go unsaid, even when you've already had to say goodbye.


Dear Jason,

Bruce is furious with you…but you and I both know that's just how he shows he cares. He doesn't eat or sleep much anymore, not that he ever did. He practically lives in his Batman suit now; Alfred can barely get him to take it off for some much-needed cleaning.

You probably would wonder why I don't talk to him about it…well, I try. I try a lot, actually. But things get in the way, like they always do – the Team needs to monitored, Bludhaven needs patrolling, Gotham's being terrorized – there's always something, you know. Mainly now because I'm alone, doing the solo-hero thing, and I have to remind myself that Bruce is too. So that doesn't leave a lot of time to talk about anything. Factor in the fact that both me and Bruce have never been good with the 'emotional' end of things, and all I can say is that we haven't really…talked since you…I wouldn't even know where to begin. How would you begin something like that? How _do_ you? Because I don't care, Jason, if you would have talked things out – it _hurts_. It hurts and hurts and it never goes away. Ever.

I'm not good at saying goodbye, Jason. Especially not when it's forever. In fact, none of us are. Bruce hasn't touched your room; Alfred hasn't either, and that's saying something, because you left your bed unmade. I know, I've been there. I'm like them, I guess. I keep expecting you to come back. I waited for you, you know, those first few nights. Bruce said you were dead, that you weren't coming back, but I…I waited in your room, waiting for you to show up. I sat at the foot of your bed for hours each night. I remember reading _Of Mice and Men_, because it was the only book you'd ever talked about even somewhat liking. That's a horrible book, by the way, Jason. I would know, I've read it, front to back, thirty-seven times waiting for you, just so when you finally came through the window I could tell you how awful of a story that book was. I hope you don't mind, I took your copy. It makes you seem…closer, somehow. Because, after nine days, I realized you weren't coming back. That was really hard to comprehend. Even when I visit the manor, I keep expecting you to come back. I keep waiting for you to slide down the staircase, I'm always ready to yell at you for taking the last of the milk, or something; Alfred made cookies, and you didn't eat them all before I got home. Darn it, Jason. Darn it.

You should have taken me with you, that night. The Joker doesn't play games, Jason. He's in it for the laughs – you know that. He's not something you solo, like a thug – he's bad. He kills people. No one faces Joker alone, not even Batman most of the time. I mean, who did you think you were?! You always acted like you were invincible, Jay…So much I might have believed it if I wasn't the one who bandaged up your cuts and scrapes, who would drag your unconscious butt home, who would wait until you woke up, just to make sure you were breathing. I took care of you, we all did. How could you not let us take care of you when you needed it? Why couldn't you let someone be there? You should have taken me with you. You should have. I could have been there, I could have stopped it - I know you were mad at Bruce, and, trust me, I know what that's like. I know what it's like to want to prove yourself so bad you go and do something stupid, I get it – but why alone? Why not take me, Barbra, anyone? Why Joker?

He killed you, Jason. He took you away from us, he _murdered _you, and I'm so mad at you I can hardly think straight. I want to yell at you, tell you to be smart, tell you to be careful, tell you I love you. I never wanted anything else bad to ever happen to you again, Jason. I wanted you to the best Robin, even if I pretended like I would _always_ be the best Boy Wonder. I wanted you to be happy.

I know you were an orphan, that most of your relatives are dead; but I considered you my family. Bruce never said it, but you were a son to him…Alfred too. You might have been adopted into our family, Jay, but you were one of us. We were brothers, we were friends, and we were partners. I'm glad that I knew you, I'm glad I can call you family. I'm glad you knew it, too. I'm glad you let me be your brother.

Wherever you are, I hope you meet my parents.

I hope you weren't too scared. I'm so sorry you died alone.

You are an idiot, Jason. And I'm so sorry I wasn't there.

I love you.

Your Brother, Dick

P.S. – Bruce put your tombstone near his parents'. You're an honorary Wayne, but just in case he left your last name the same; you're Todd-Wayne now.


End file.
